


digging up the bones inside my head

by lavenderies (kinkylahey)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Dubious Morality, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 10:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16514375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkylahey/pseuds/lavenderies
Summary: Stiles Stilinski isn't going to know what hit him, or so Derek thought. He needs to start doing better research on his marks.





	digging up the bones inside my head

A tumbler of amber liquid sits discarded in front of Derek as he peers across the crowded room. His gaze cuts through the writhing, sweaty mass of people and blocks out the smoky haze, settling on his mark. 

Stiles Stilinski, age twenty-four. A drop-out of the FBI training academy, the son of small county sheriff, and a man with a  _ colorful  _ background. An innocent though, according to the one that had hired him. Wrong place, wrong time, and that’s why there was an assassin on his tail. Why  _ Derek’s _ on his tail.

His features are less prominent in person, though that could also be chalked up the distance. He has it memorized though, the boyish face and pale skin littered with dark freckles. He had been given a file full of information about the young man and plenty of pictures had been placed between each black and white record.

He’ll never forget Stiles. He never forgets any of his kills.

But first he has to kill him.

Tossing back his drink with a grimace, Derek gets up from his table. He stalks across the room, coming to stand by Stiles at the bar. He waves the bartender down. “One scotch on the rocks,” he says, then glances over at Stiles who’s not-so-subtly checking him. His lips curl with a smirk. “And one for him — whatever he wants.”

Stiles makes the face of a dying fish, his brown eyes widening as the bartender steps away to get their order. He makes a quick recovery but there’s still something jittery about him. “You’re bold,” he says, looking away like he’s disinterested. He’s not nearly as smooth as he’s trying to be. 

“I’ve never seen a reason not to be,” he responds. He rests his elbow on the bar and clasps his hands together. His eyes never leave Stiles. “There’s no beating around the bush when I want something.”

His mouth opens and then closes again, eyes darting up to meet his. “And you… Want me?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, as if saying,  _ ‘What else would I want?’ _

The bartender returns with their drinks before they can continue their conversation. Derek brings his to his lips, pretending to take a sip. He doesn’t want to become inebriated. His job requires him to be in full control of his faculties, whether he’s trying to earn his target’s trust or finishing them off. So far, he’s done a good job of the former.

Stiles plays with the rim of his glass, a colorful cocktail of some sort, but doesn’t take a sip. He takes a deep breath and nods to himself. “I want you too,” he says, his voice only shaking a little. “So why don’t we just go?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

Stiles shrugs. “You can tell me on the way to yours.”

Well, that’s perfectly fine with Derek. He pays his tab and then wraps a possessive arm around Stiles’ waist, guiding them towards the back exit — the one that, fortuitously, doesn’t have cameras. His car, a black Camaro, is parked in another blind spot. Like a gentleman, he holds open the passenger door for Stiles before sliding into the driver’s seat. He even lets the younger man fiddle with the radio as he takes him to their destination.

It’s an decrepit industrial building on the edge of town, modified at one point into an apartment building. He’s the only tenant — and the owner, for that matter — but that’s unapparent upon arrival. Equally unapparent is what will happen once they get to the top floor.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks as they enter the loft. Stiles’ eyes are wide in amazement but he turns back to Derek and nods. Good. The kill is always easier if they’re under the influence.

The kill is also easier when he knows what he’s dealing with. 

He returns with drinks in hand, stopping and frowning when he realizes that Stiles has vanished. Bathroom? Setting the glasses down on the table, he takes a few steps forward. He doesn’t get further than that as something cracks against the back of his skull. The world swims as he falls to his hands and knees and his stomach churns as a foot connects with his gut. He rolls onto his back, squinting up at the man above him. At  _ Stiles _ .

“I know who hired you,” he spits out, voice dripping with venom. He puts a foot on Derek’s chest. “And if they told you I’m innocent, gullible, or stupid, then they lied to you.”

_ What the hell? _

Stiles bends down, his face hovering dangerously close to him. Derek blinks at him, taken aback by the sudden closeness and then startled again when a knife presses against his neck.  _ What the hell  _ gets upgraded to  _ what the fuck _ .

“It’s a damn shame you were hired to kill me,” Stiles says, “‘cause I totally would’ve slept with you. Do you know how hot you are? Like  _ damn _ .” He shakes his, a wry grin on his lips. “But now I have to do to you what you were going to do me.”

The knife digs into his neck. Derek closes his eyes as he waits for the pain, for the end, but nothing comes. He cracks them open, confusion evident on his features. Stiles’ expression is contemplative.

“Y’know… I’m usually not so generous  _ but _ I think I’ll be this time,” he says. “If you want to live, you’re going to help me track down Brunski.” Pulling away, he holds out his knife-free hand to Derek. “How’s that sound?”

“Better than dying,” he mutters, taking Stiles’ hand and dragging himself off the floor. He rubs at his neck as Stiles eyes the glasses on the table.

“Then why don’t you go get me a drink that  _ isn’t  _ spiked and we can get to work. If we hurry, maybe we’ll have some spare time at the end,” he adds with a lascivious wink.

Derek isn’t sure what he’s gotten himself into but he tells himself it’s better than dying. He’s  _ probably  _ right.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it a meet cute if they try to kill each other?
> 
> Anyways, comments are appreciated.


End file.
